


generic ficlet 1

by xandyjacks



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel)
Genre: Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 08:53:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3168899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xandyjacks/pseuds/xandyjacks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>the shortest snippet of kouao fucking u can imagine. i wrote this at 3am and i was 110% meaning to write the whole scene but that was months ago and it hasn't happened so we can pretty much accept it never will</p>
    </blockquote>





	generic ficlet 1

**Author's Note:**

> the shortest snippet of kouao fucking u can imagine. i wrote this at 3am and i was 110% meaning to write the whole scene but that was months ago and it hasn't happened so we can pretty much accept it never will

It was Friday evening, and that meant one of two things to Aoba Seragaki. Option one; his dark haired boyfriend comes home, takes him out for dinner, maybe takes him clubbing, they get drunk and have a wonderful night. Option two; Koujaku gets home, he's been thinking about Aoba all day, and they don't manage to leave the house.

Either way, things were coming up roses.

The blue haired man glanced at his coil, pausing the music blaring through his headphones to sit upright against the wall. He was still working at the junk shop during the day, but Koujaku was paying for the majority of their expenses and late evenings working had become more or less normal. It was eight thirty, just about, and ten minutes past the time his boyfriend had said he'd be home. He turned the music back on, quieter this time, and flopped on his side to lay on the tatami-covered floor.

Aoba spaced out a little, letting his thoughts drift wherever they may, and before he knew it the sound of the front door being opened and closed made him stumble to his feet. He pulled his headphones down to hang around his neck, not bothering to pause the music, and mumbled a sleepy reply to Koujaku as he announced his return.

Koujaku caught Aoba's gaze, and he suddenly wasn't tired anymore. The taller man gulped visibly as Aoba casually licked his lips, and it was all Aoba could do not to smirk. Alright, so that was how it was going to be. Aoba made a show of yawning, padding over to give Koujaku a kiss on the cheek.

He wasn't surprised at all when Koujaku grabbed his chin and leaned in, all teeth and tongue and desperation. 

\--

He'd heard a couple of girls describe Koujaku as an animal in bed before, and he was convinced they were absolutely wrong.

Koujaku was eager, sure. Rough, sometimes. But 'animal' made it sound like he was driven by his own desire, and that was where Aoba couldn't possibly disagree more.

He'd never ever been with anyone who'd paid the same kind of minute attention to his pleasure. Koujaku wanted him, and whenever he got him he didn't ever want to let go. He'd often get Aoba off before he'd even got his own clothes off, never mind before finding his own release. The dark haired man had admitted once, as they'd cleaned up the considerable mess from the night before, that 'It's more rewarding when you're all sensitive. You get shaky, it's fantastic.'

That comment had, of course, been met with a (clean) pillow to the head and a flurry of curses, but Aoba had thought about it often. Everyone had their kinks, right? If Koujaku's kink was seeing him be fucked silly then so be it. At least it wasn't anything he wouldn't thoroughly enjoy. And, he had to admit, it was infinitely better than guys who were only in it to get their rocks off, too.

He decided to talk to Koujaku about it another time. Possibly over text message so Koujaku wouldn't see his cheeks flush.

\--

"Koujaku," Aoba moaned, hips writhing against the sheets. His face was flushed, teary eyes squeezed shut as he gasped for breath. Koujaku’s fingers were unrelenting, moving in and out and rubbing against his insides in the way Koujaku knew made him melt. His voice was raw, raspy panting hot against the older man’s shoulder. "Please," He whined, his voice never quite reaching his own ears. If he were more able to think, he’d probably be glad not to hear how desperate he’d become.

Koujaku was saying something, and Aoba, well on the way to his third orgasm that night, didn’t even try to process the meaning. He basked in the sound, however, the rich gravelly baritone he’d come to love so much. It lit sparks in his chest that only served to stoke the fire in his belly and he let out a loud cry. It echoed off the walls, and caught Koujaku off guard. He was talking again, god, yes, and Aoba wished he had the presence to hear what he was saying. He moaned between shaky inhales and exhales, occasionally forcing his lips around Koujaku’s name. God he was tired, this was more than his body could take, and when Koujaku’s fingers pressed right against that spot that made him see stars while the other hand languidly massaged at his clit, he felt his whole body climb higher and higher. Past what was comfortable and past what he thought he could feel and then he was there, for a moment everything was white, and then it hit. 

This orgasm was by far the strongest he’d ever had, just about strong enough to be painful, and Aoba’s entire body tensed. His back arched, lifting clear off the sheets until his soft chest was pressed flush against Koujaku’s, and he felt his toes curl into the soft bedding. He was probably making all sorts of noise, but he could barely bring himself to care when the fire in his belly felt like it was consuming him, burning him alive. God, it felt good. He let out an uneven breath, collapsing back into the bed before cracking his eyes open to look at Koujaku.

His breath hitched. Although Koujaku, graced with different equipment, was thoroughly spent by the end of the first round, his eyes gleamed with a feral hunger that Aoba only ever got to see in moments like these. With Koujaku’s large arms caging him in, and his sharp teeth biting on his lower lip, Aoba felt like he was about to be eaten alive, and as Koujaku leaned in for a deep, messy kiss he thought to himself that he wouldn’t mind that in the least.


End file.
